Chasing Wind
by witchywho
Summary: Is it really that odd that she wants to figure out how she was reborn? SI/OC, rating may change. Hiatus.
1. Chapter 1

**Welcome, nerds. Here's my contribution to the SI-OC trope in the Harry Potter fandom. You're welcome.**

 _ooo0O-O0ooo_

Alice lounged on the couch in the living room, blonde curls pulled high onto her head in a bun and her eyes closed. Anyone else might mistake her to be asleep, but in fact she was listening to the radio that played softly across the room, just barely heard over the sounds of Frank banging pots on the stove in the kitchen and her children cooing at each other in their play pen.

" _He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's latest attack was in a town created by Half-Blood's and Muggleborns three days ago,_ " spoke Sarah Thomas, the Prophet's Radio Anchorwoman. " _Reports show that there are 13 dead and a dozen more injured. Entire families have been eradicated, and the Dark Lord showed no mercy for even the children. Those who escaped did so with the help of a recent band of vigilantes known as the Order of the Phoenix. The Order's origins and leadership are still unknown, and while the Ministry and Auror Department are asking for their activity to cease, can it be said that the Order is doing any more harm than that of the people_ paid _to protect us? When was the last time that a team of Aurors showed up in time to an attack early enough to-_ "

The radio shut off with a click and Alice blinked her eyes open, pushing herself up on her elbows. Standing next to the radio, Frank crossed his arms over his apron, giving her a stern look. Her husband was a handsome man, that was for sure, but the flour on his cheek, the mess on his apron, and his mussed brown hair only served to make him laughable in the best of ways. Alice smiled and raised a single eyebrow.

"You promised to not listen to the radio in front of the kids," Frank sighed, running a hand through his hair.

Alice glanced at her children, still babbling to each other in language only known to other infants and toddlers. They didn't seem to mind it at all, or appear to have even heard a word. Still, she frowned, disgruntled.

"I just hate that we can't be there," Alice said venomously, fingers digging into the fabric of the couch. "I'm an Auror, you're a Healer - we're both part of the Order! We should be out there, fighting You-Know-Who, not- not cowering in the dark!"

Even as the words left her mouth, she knew that she only half meant them. Frank was quick to voice the same.

"We both know that this isn't cowering," he soothed, crossing the room to sit next to her as she threw her legs off the couch. "When the Prophecy was revealed to us and the Potters, we knew that we would have to go into hiding. For the kids. How do you think Lily and James are faring?"

She closed her eyes, tilting her head back. "Probably as well as us, I suspect… I just…"

Frank wrapped an arm around her shoulder, leaning his head onto hers. "I know, darling. I know."

It had only been a five months since they went into hiding, and still Alice hated every moment of inactivity. She and Lily had been forceful in staying to fight for as long as they were able, going into hiding once they had to give birth. Even if they couldn't fight on the front lines, they could be back up. The only bright point was that her daughter was most definitely out of the running to be the prophesized child to defeat Lord Voldemort, due to the wording of Sybill Trelawney's prophecy.

Being under the Fidelius wasn't that bad - or, it wouldn't be if they were able to leave the premises of their home to even go shopping. No, only the select few who knew the Secret could come, and they switched off bringing groceries every week. Only Marlene, their Secret Keeper, Mary, Alice's friend, and Dumbledore knew where the Longbottom house was now.

Suddenly there was a flare of magic in the living room that had Alice instinctively going for her wand, until Frank's grip on her tightened and she saw what was happening.

A stuffed yellow elephant they had bought Christina was floating above their heads from where it had sat in the armchair, right towards the playpen. And sitting inside, propped up without anything even while Neville simply lay on his stomach, was Christina, watching the elephant with squinted eyes and reddening cheeks. A few moments of silence later, the elephant dropped into the playpen and Christina gave a squeal of delight, hugging the elephant close.

Alice realized she wasn't breathing. Frank was near-hyperventilating.

"She just- she just," Frank tried to say. Alice gave him a hearty smack on the back to knock some calm into him, and he sent her an exasperated look tinged with panic. "That was her first accidental magic. Kids don't show accidental magic until they're at least a year old."

Alice tried to stay calm. " _And the Dark Lord will mark_ him _as his equal._ It can't be Christina. It's just a coincidence."

Frank gave a hysterical laugh, placing his face in his hands. "You think something as simple as a _pronoun_ will stop him? If he finds out-"

"And he won't," Alice said forcefully, grabbing her husband's hands and gripping them tight, making eye contact. "If Christina is the Chosen One, he won't know about it. We tell _no one_ of this. Not even… Not even Marlene."

Frank didn't seem to feel better in the slightest. Neither did Alice. She tried think of any case where a prophecy messed up the wordings in regards to gender, but she had never taken Divination at Hogwarts. Neither had Frank.

As she pulled her husband close and hugged him, while the smell of burnt food wafted into the living room from the kitchen, she swore to Merlin that she would kick Dumbledore's arse if he got the wording wrong.

 _ooo0O-O0ooo_

The McKinnons were killed five days before Neville and Christina's first birthday. Alice was inconsolable for days, and so they celebrated the twins' birth a week late. The only bright side to Marlene and her family's demise was that is wasn't any of Voldemort's Inner Circle to do the deed, and thus they were granted a swift, painless death. It appeared that the Secret was not the motive, but Alice and Frank kept on swift guard for a month afterwards. With their Secret Keeper dead, the Secret was thus now able to be shared by any in on it.

By the beginning of September, though, they had relaxed a smidge. Enough so that Alice was able to leave her wand out of her sight for more than a few moments, but not enough that she wanted to kids alone in any room, even to sleep.

The news that the Potters had been killed reached them within hours of November First, bringing both elation and grief. It meant that Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, was the prophecy child and that Christina and Neville were safe. But it also meant that their life-long friends were dead and a child was left an orphan. It meant that Peter Pettigrew had betrayed them.

Sirius, who had been let in on the Longbottom whereabouts after Marlene's tragic death, showed up only an hour after the news broke. He spoke little of what became of Harry, despite the questioning Alice gave him. He said that Dumbledore had hidden him away, and asked for Frank's ability in tracking spells, well known in the Order.

Frank was barely able to keep Alice from charging off with Sirius to look for the backstabbing bastard, stating that even if the threat of the Dark Lord himself was gone, there were still his followers. Christina and Neville needed them both alive, not just one parent.

Three days later, while Sirius still searched for Pettigrew and made periodic check ins, the wards around their house shuddered. Without pause, Frank and Alice activated the portkeys tied to the onsies their children wore, only a second after their front door was blown in with the force of a typhoon.

Their children would appear in the middle of Minerva McGonagall's desk, Alice knew, and heard the cackling laughter of Bellatrix Black recently turned Lestrange.

(Reinforcements arrived a day too late Minerva had been watching a certain Muggle family all day and well into the evening.)

 _ooo0O-O0ooo_

 **Reviews make me write faster. This one's just for fun compared to the more seriousness I apply to** _ **Sunlight**_ **, so I won't be writing chapters all the time, I'll write when I want and post whenever. However, Reviews do make me want to write when I know people are willing to read. Smooches, nerds.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Also, guys, Sunlight will be updated within the next week or two. School starts August 15th and I have that week off work, so when I'm not doing homework, I'll be writing, no worries. However, when I have both work and school to deal with, I don't know how well I'll keep up, but I'll try!**

 _ooo0O-O0ooo_

Christina speaks her first full sentence when she is a little over a year old.

"Where is mummy and daddy?"

There's a slight accent to it, but Christina knows that it'll fade in time when her previous life fades more like all memories do. She does her best to sound as British as she can, though, for the sake of the woman who had burst into the office she and Neville had teleported into.

The woman, who wore robes like she'd seen in the pictures around her new home, had black hair pulled tightly into a bun and glasses perched on her nose. Christina thought she looked quite like a librarian who had a fondness for sneaking children cookies when she wasn't glaring at them for talking loudly.

The woman had, upon entering the room to see the onesie-clad twins sitting on her desk, (or, in Neville's position, sleeping) frozen. Christina wasn't the best at seeing things yet, and she had hope in her heart that she wouldn't need glasses this go-around, so she couldn't really tell facial expressions that were very small, but she could hear the sharp intake of breath.

"Oh dear Merlin," the woman whispered, voice thick with a Scottish brogue.

And then the magic happened. Literally.

The best thing about being reborn was that she seemed to have been reborn to a family of witches, and to a girl who had previously been entranced in fiction, specifically about a little witch from a school in Salem who saved the world with the power of love… Well. One could understand how eager Christina was to see every bit and piece of magic that this life had to offer, even if she was stuck in the 80's.

" _Expecto Patronum_!" From the woman's wand burst a silver tabby cat when she cast, and then she spoke. "Albus Dumbledore; Albus, the Longbottom twins were portkeyed to my office. Alice and Frank are in trouble."

Oh.

Christina felt as though her heart had stopped. Her mum and dad were in trouble? Oh god. Every little instance where Christina had heard mention of the war that was rampaging through the Wizarding World flooded through her mind, all her unasked questions regarding how her little family never left the house and had to have their groceries brought to them by friends - and the most recent addition. The loud bang that had sounded through the entire house the second before she and Neville had teleported - portkeyed? - to this office.

Her magic curled inside her veins and what once was a steady flow of warmth became an inferno of terror that whipped around and started to shake the furniture of the room as the silver tabby cat fled the room, walking on air as if on solid ground.

Even though she wanted to demand answers from this woman, Christina was still only one year old, and her body reacted accordingly by bursting into tears. The woman swooped in to hold her to her chest, even as her screaming sobs woke Neville up who soon joined in on the crying.

She wanted her mum and dad.

She didn't know if she would get them.

 _ooo0O-O0ooo_

In the days that followed, Christina was a wreck that swung violently from screaming and crying to silent and observant. She and Neville had been bundled off to a home the size of a mansion where an old woman lived only moments after said old woman and an old man dressed in tacky robes had entered the glasses-woman's office.

Clearly, the old lady who had taken them to the mansion, was trying to stay calm, tucking them into what seemed a very old crib in a room with a very large window in it. She lit the lights with a flick of her wand and tucked a red-and-gold blanket around Christina and her brother. The little mobile that hung above the crib had dragons that hung from it, which was set into a slow, steady spin at the flick of the woman's wand, a steady lullaby playing from it.

Christina desperately wanted to stay awake, to demand who this woman was, where she and Neville had been taken, where her parents were - but she was exhausted from crying and screaming. Neville had already succumbed to the lullaby and exhaustion, and it wasn't long before she did, too.

The next morning, she woke to the distant sound of shouting.

It wasn't long before she learned the fate of her parents. Christina tried to focus on the pity she felt for Mary McDonald, who had been tortured to death to find the location of the Longbottom household, but the grief she felt over her parents seemed to overpower everything. Tortured to insanity, she overheard. In the Hospital for life.

She and Neville were now, at best, orphans. The old woman, their grandmother on their dad's side, would now be the one to raise them. It a year, Christina had lost a family and a life, gained another, and then repeated. Like some kind of fucked-up shower of life. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Christina didn't speak for two weeks unless it was to quietly sing to Neville when he woke up with nightmares, before Augusta could check on them.

 _ooo0O-O0ooo_

Christina remembered the moment Gran seemed to come to the conclusion that Neville was worth less because he hadn't shown signs of accidental magic like it were a scene in a movie she had watched on repeat for decades. It was when they were nearing the age of four, just after another 'visit' to see their insane parents in St. Mungo's where Gran would regale them with the tales of how amazing their parents were and how they, as the great Alice and Frank's children, would have to live up to that image - well. It was no secret that Christina hated these visits.

She and Neville were sitting in front of the fireplace, drawing in a coloring book of magical creatures that tried to evade their crayons. It was only when she looked up did she see that every crayon that she had wanted to use next would float over near her hand. Christina had grown so comfortable with her magic that she barely noticed these days when it flared up in response to her feelings and wants.

And then she saw Gran.

Augusta Longbottom was always a severe looking woman, which complimented her strict attitude and conservative ideals. However, Christina had never before seen her look at anything with such disappointment in her eyes. Wondering what had let her down, she looked - and saw Neville.

Neville, her baby brother, all toddler-chub and blonde curls and blue eyes. He'd never done a single thing wrong in his entire life, done nothing but be a light in her life that, in her darker moments where she only ever _hated_ , (hated rebirth, hated death, hated life, hated the people around her…) would remind her that there were good things no matter what… And Gran was looking at him as though he had snuck a cookie and accidentally broke the jar.

Confused, Christina swung her head back to look at Gran, and realized that Gran was looking not only at Neville, but also at the crayons that had been floating previously. She realized just what about Neville had disappointed Gran.

Not since the day he was born had Neville performed any accidental magic that was large enough for them to see. Christina was sure that he had done _some_ , she could feel the cackle in the air that told of emotion-charged magic and could, almost, feel that it was Neville's magic - but she'd yet to see it physically manifest.

And for some goddamn reason, this seemed to disappoint Gran in ways that would forever elude Christina.

It was after this that Uncle Algie came to stay and the combined forces of Gran and her Uncle rained down upon Neville constantly to try and get him to show a hint of magic. Trips to St. Mungo's became a weekly event in which Gran would tell tales of their dad as a child, always having magical accidents and exploits; though they were told at the same time, next to each other, Christina always got the feeling Gran was talking specifically to Neville.

When she and Neville were five, Uncle Algie pushed Neville down the stairs.

It wasn't a tall flight of stairs, it was the shortest one in the Longbottom Manor, the one that led from the raised floor of a private living room to a hall. Christina didn't realize what had happened, having been focusing on reading a book about dragons, until Neville burst into tears and Uncle Algie sighed audibly and grumbled.

"Nothing," he had groaned, even as he pointed his wand and mumbled a spell that would help Neville's bruises heal. "Not even a hint."

Christina dropped her book and ran to Neville, because a spell wasn't going to stop him from crying, wasn't going to fix the fact that someone who was _family_ had purposefully put a _child_ in danger.

"Nev," she cooed, wrapping her arms around her twin's shoulders and trying to cover his head with her long hair. "It's okay. You're okay. It was just a little tumble. You're okay."

"B-but it hu-urt," he stuttered between heaving breaths, tears stopped by breathing still wacked.

"I know, Nev, I know," Christina glared at the retreating back of Uncle Algie as he went down the hall, away from them. "A little pain won't kill you, I promise."  
Many years later, Christina would pinpoint this moment as the first time she actively hated Gran and Uncle Algie and Neville's presence didn't temper it.

 _ooo0O-O0ooo_

 **So yeah, chapters for CW are going to be a lot shorter than Sunlight. I sort of wanted to write more, but also the next scene would be a good opening for the next chapter, soooo. But hey, I'm glad so many people who liked Sunlight are liking Chasing Wind! Chasing Wind is a darker take on rebirth compared to Sunlight, where I skipped a lot of Clara's developing years to get straight to the main story. Christina, however… To understand anything that might be part of the main storyline, we need to get through the childhood arc first. It gives a lot of background to future things. Plus, I like writing without referencing the original text so much, man, it goes faster.**

 **Reviews fuel my writing energy! Smooches, nerds!**


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